Opposite Poles
by InferiorBeing
Summary: DracoHarry A very different Harry is catapulted into the world where he has no parents and Voldemort is not truly dead. With no way back to his own timeline, he sets out to completely destroy the other Harry's life.
1. The Other Harry

**Title:** _Opposite Poles_  
**Author: **InferiorBeing  
**Main Pairing:** Harry/Draco  
**Side Paring(s):** Ron/Hermione, AUHarry/Cho  
**Rating:** PG-13 or T  
**Warnings:** homosexuality, heterosexuality, mean Gryffindors (except Neville), accepting Slytherins (In the grand scheme of things I'm not exactly sure who's truly "evil" – you decide.) _**started pre-HBP and incorporates only SOME the sixth book  
**_**Disclaimer:** One would think that the fact that this story is being put on a fanfiction internet site would imply that I don't own it...  
**Summary:** Choices are what shapes the future. On that fated night of All Hallows Eve, there were many choices that were made, and many timelines that split off from those choices, never to merge again. But what if two were to merge? A very different Harry is catapulted into the world where he has no parents and Voldemort is not truly dead. With no way back to his own time-line, he begins to make himself at home in this new world, and sets out to completely destroy the other Harry's life in the process.  
**Dedication:** For Elle, who requested it so very long ago. Thank you for waiting so very patiently for me to post this.

_Chapter One: The Other Harry_

Hogwarts in its entirety glowed with the arrival of students, both new and old, to another school year. Their voices filled the Great Hall with light and sound, so tangible that one could almost see the words and smiles of friends and housemates. Even as far up as Gryffindor tower or as far down as the Slytherin dungeons, the energy and the life of the new year seemed to echo off the walls. Yet there was one student who did not share in such joy. He was not in the Great Hall eating the feast or talking with his housemates. No, he was in Dumbledore's office, waiting for the Headmaster to return, and staring at the boy sitting next to him… a boy who looked like… himself.

It was an accident, Harry had been told when he was brought up to Dumbledore's office by Professor McGonagall. It was a freak accident of nature, something that had not happened since Merlin's time or before, and yet it had happened now… and it had happened to him.

Dumbledore had tried to make it easy, had taken the logical approach at first. He'd explained to Harry about timelines before actually showing Harry the result. Timelines were difficult to understand, and even more difficult to manipulate, which was why a Time Turner was such a dangerous object. Timelines were what held the universe together, and they flowed in and around each other without ever touching one another. Originally, back in the beginning of time there was only one timeline, which moved forward in a straight line. But then the first man had been given a decision to make, with two choices. He could have chosen either, and so the timeline split, one going of to the left and one going of to the right. In each timeline the man had made a different choice, and a different result had occurred. Dumbledore explained that once in a very obscure while, these timelines would touch and merge at one point, on one person's life. The timeline which was stronger for that person would continue moving, and the person who was stronger would continue living.

This was where all the ideas of time travel began. It wasn't going back in time, it was making a jump to another, stronger, timeline.

The timeline that this _other_ Harry had come from had split long before Harry's birth, Dumbledore had explained. The split had occurred in Voldemort's past, and he had chosen a different route to his immortality than he had in Harry's timeline. And it was a false immortality, such that when, on Halloween night, he had turned his wand on Harry, the rebounding _Avada Kedavra_ had killed him. Completely. Utterly. And he had not returned in Harry's fourth year. There had been nothing of him to bring back to life.

And in a miracle of nature, the timeline that this other Harry came from had touched his own a week before school had begun. Harry's timeline had been stronger, and so the timeline from the other Harry's life had disappeared completely. But both Harrys had been of equal strength, so they both had survived the linking of the timelines.

And this was why Harry was sitting, staring at a warped version of _himself_, waiting for Dumbledore to finish whatever bloody speech he was making to the rest of the school about this predicament and to come back here to explain to Harry what was going to happen to his other self.

Their eyes were the same, Harry noticed, but that was where the similarities truly ended. _This_ Harry had no scar, but he had a lightning bolt tattoo on his right temple, that zigzagged down to his jaw. _This_ Harry had perfectly tamed hair, jelled to perfection. _This_ Harry was much taller than Harry was, with a healthy looking body that made Harry's look all the more scrawny than it really was. _This_ Harry had a crooked smile, and an impish gleam in his eyes. And _this_ Harry had grown up with his parents, with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin as godparents. _This_ Harry had been given all Harry had ever wished for in the depths of his heart and yet never been able to have.

"The rest of the school now knows about your arrival, Harry." Harry jumped slightly when Dumbledore addressed his other self. He hadn't heard the Headmaster enter the room. "We'll just wait for them to absorb the information a bit before sending you both up to the Gryffindor Common Room."

Harry looked at the other's robes to see that there was one more similarity between them: they both wore Gryffindor robes.

The Gryffindor common room was all abuzz when both Harrys entered.

"Wow! They really do look different!" Harry cringed when the two Creevy brothers began taking pictures.

"Bloody brilliant, Harry, two of you!" Ron grinned at Harry before holding his hand out to the other. "Ron Weasley."

_Other Harry_ grinned back. "I know who you are, Ron. Back in my timeline you're my best friend."

"Well I can be that in this timeline too, mate!"

_Other Harry_ looked over Ron's shoulder to nod and smile at Hermione standing behind him. "And you look just as beautiful as you did in my timeline, Hermione."

Harry watched in amazement as Hermione actually blushed. He was sure she wouldn't do that if he complemented her.

Harry could only continue to watch as his other self continued working his way through the crowd of Gryffindors that he _remembered_ from his own timeline. Harry sighed inwardly and sat down next to Neville on the far end of a sofa to watch the gaggle.

"Everyone really seems to like him, Harry," Neville spoke softly.

"Yeah, they do."

"And they seem to have forgotten about you."

"It's just something new and exciting." Harry waved off Neville's observation with a carefree gesture that he didn't actually feel like making. "Once they realize we're the same person, it won't be so different."

"I don't think you are the same person, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore explained about the timeline differences and I don't think you two are the same. Your choices are what make you who you are, and he's made different choices than you have."

"You have a point, Neville." Harry yawned and stretched, "But I think that no matter what timeline we're from, we're both still Harry." Harry wondered if he actually believed what he was saying. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep. You coming?"

"I'll be up later. I want to watch some more."

Harry nodded and got up, beginning to work his way around the circle of Gryffindors to the stairs to the dorms.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron called, seeing his friend move. "Come sit next to Harry!" Everyone laughed at how funny it sounded. "We're going to have to get you some nicknames!" Ron decided.

"Oh, you can just call me Prongs. Everyone in my timeline did." The other Harry grinned at Harry with a taunting light in his eyes. "Except my father and godfathers, who called me Little Prongs."

Harry plastered on a smile that he didn't truly wish to make as everyone agreed to call the other Harry "Prongs" and began asking what it meant, to which he replied that it was a "family secret".

"Come on, Harry, we'll make some room." Hermione smiled at him from her seat next to Ron.

"Some other time; I'm going to bed. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The other Harry nodded. "I think I should be going as well. After all, we have classes tomorrow." And before the other Gryffindors could react he was up and across the room, heading for Harry. "We'll go together." He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes at Harry and began heading up the stairs.

Ignoring Neville's warning look, Harry sighed and followed up after him.

Both Harrys were quiet as they ascended the stairs, and Harry figured that he should at least attempt to be nice to his other self. After all, they were both Harry, right? So they should have a lot in common.

"You seemed to fit right in," he commented, trying out a real smile on his other self.

"Oh, don't start with me. I saw the look you gave me in Dumbledore's office, as if I was just another part of you. Well, I'm not." The _other Harry_ whirled around to glare down at Harry. "I don't care what Dumbledore said about stronger timelines, mine was better. You _failed_ at killing Voldemort where I succeeded, and that makes you a part of me and not the other way around. So I'll have to finish what you couldn't. This is _my_ time now, so just stay out of my way."

And without another word, Prongs turned on his heel and left Harry on the stairwell. Suddenly, Harry wasn't so tired anymore.

* * *

Harry broke into a run as he neared the Great Hall the next morning. He had overslept, and there were only fifteen minutes of breakfast left. But Ron normally woke him up if he was sleeping in, so what had-

Harry's thoughts halted as he entered the Great Hall and saw his two friends sitting with the rest of the Gryffindors from his grade around Prongs. Oh. _That_ was why. Neville waved to him from where he was sitting on the edge of the group that was crammed as close together as they could, so that they all could talk to Prongs. Sighing, Harry gave Neville a half-hearted smile and sat down next to him.

"I tried to wake you, but Prongs said to let you sleep," Neville nodded towards the other Harry. "He said you said last night that you were really tired. Of course, after that, no one would let me wake you up."

Harry nodded mutely and began eating. "I think I'm starting to think you were right last night, Neville," he finally said after a few bites.

"I hope I'm not, Harry," was Neville's reply. "I really hope I'm not."

* * *

"Draco, what are you looking at?"

Draco turned slightly to look at the girl next to him with a steeled look. "Nothing that you should concern yourself with, Pansy."

The girl pouted and Draco turned his eyes back to the throng at the Gryffindor table.

"Don't let it get to you, Pansy," Blaise commented lightly, waving his fork at Draco as he spoke. "He's been like this since last night."

"He's thinking. Let him think," Goyle growled in-between mouthfuls, glaring at Blaise's flippant expression.

"Ok, ok! Sheesh, just trying to lighten the mood here!"

"When Draco's like this, he's scheming," Crabbe spoke slowly. "So be quiet."

Draco abruptly stood and left. Frowning, Blaise looked over at where Draco was looking for the whole meal just in time to see Harry Potter, the one from this timeline, leave the Great Hall.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Pansy frowned forlornly, looking like a kicked puppy. "I don't know. I just hope whatever it is stops soon. He hasn't spoken more than about ten words to me."

"Maybe if you didn't hang on him like a leech, he wouldn't ignore you." Goyle glared at the two as if to say "see what you've done?".

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do."

* * *

Harry walked slowly towards Potions, half amazed that he was actually going to be in the class. Of course, he knew that it was a requirement for becoming an Auror, but he had been almost positive that Snape wouldn't let him in the class. He sighed as he thought, not really seeing the hallway in front of him but trusting his feet knew where to go. Dumbledore must have made Snape let Harry in, something which Snape would not have been happy about. _And with Neville gone, he'll probably only pick on me now,_ Harry thought glumly. What a wonderful way to start the week.

"Hey Potter, where's your other self?" a voice drawled from the corridor in front of him.

Harry looked up at the boy standing there. "Where's your better thirds?" he asked in reply, seeing that Crabe and Goyle weren't there with Malfoy.

"They're not taking NEWT Potions this year." Malfoy looked Harry up and down with distaste. "Surprising _you_ got in though, considering what an abysmal failure you are at the subject. Maybe your other self will have the skill you lack."

Harry glared at the other boy as the words from Prongs the night before flittered through his mind. "He's not my other self," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that, Potter? I didn't hear you."

"I said get out of my way, Malfoy, before you make me late."

Harry pushed past Malfoy, but not fast enough before he heard what Malfoy said softly as he passed.

"Where are your friends now, Potter?"

* * *

There were three Gryffindors in Snape's NEWT Potions class: Harry, Hermione, and Prongs. When Harry entered, he saw that Prongs and Hermione were already sitting together, talking about something in whatever book it was they had on the desk in front of them. Biting back a glare, Harry sat down in the back of the room and began to take out his things. He purposefully didn't look up when the door opened and Malfoy sauntered into the room right before the class started but couldn't help the thought that if it had been him who had walked in that close to the start of class he would have lost points for it.

In total, when class started, there were three Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, four Ravenclaws, and five Slytherins. Harry did not miss the fact that even though the numbers were small, the Slytherins still held the majority. Thinking about this, he almost missed what Snape was saying.

"Divide yourselves in pairs and begin working. Whoever does not complete the Ater Umbresque (lit. "light and dark") potion in the allotted time will have to do so outside of class as well as write a three foot long essay on why they did not finish in the time required to make the potion."

Harry jumped as a textbook was dropped on the bench next to him. Prongs smirked at him as he sat down next to him. "I hear from Hermione that this isn't your strongest subject. Since it's my best, why don't we work together?"

Harry blinked, surprised. "Um, sure, I guess. How does this get to be your best subject with him around?" He gestured at Snape.

"Oh, he's not the Potions professor from where I came from." Prongs shrugged, "A minor discrepancy between our timelines."

Harry nodded, inwardly adding another line to his list. This Harry had no Snape to bother him. "So how do you want to split up the work?" he asked, looking at the long list of instructions on the board.

"Well, since _I_ already know how to do it, why don't you do the work and I'll give you pointers. That way you can improve."

Harry searched Prong's face for malice as he said those words and, finding none, agreed. He didn't really care who did what as long as the potion was done at the end of class.

* * *

Prongs was actually very helpful, Harry had to admit. He watched carefully as Harry did the steps, correcting his grip on his knife or showing an easier way to shred the bee stingers or commenting that it would be easier to stir if the flame was kept just a bit lower. Harry didn't think he'd ever learned so much about potion-making in any other class he'd ever taken. And, as the final product was exactly as it was described in the book, he had to admit that Prongs knew what he was doing.

But Harry wondered why Prongs was being so nice, with what the other boy had said the night before. Then, he thought, maybe it had been the shock of being brought to a new timeline that caused Prongs to lash out at him. After all, if _he_ had been brought to a new timeline where everything was not as perfect as Prong's timeline sounded, he would have been very upset at the Harry in that timeline, too.

He was brought out of his musing as Snape approached their bench and glared down at them.

"It stands to reason that you would need two of you in order to concoct a decent potion, Potter," Snape sneered at them.

"Actually, Professor," Prongs cut in calmly. "Harry here didn't know anything so I had to do it all myself."

What?! Harry gaped at Prongs in anger and surprise.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for not reading up on the assignment, Potter." Snape glanced smugly over at the astonished Harry before turning back to his other self. "And ten points from Gryffindor for _you_ not working with your partner, Potter."

As Snape walked away Prongs visibly seethed at him. Harry couldn't help remarking bitterly, "I would have thought Hermione would have told you Snape hates all Potters," as he began packing his things away.

**status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas**


	2. Prongs Almost Perfect

_Chapter Two: Prongs Almost Perfect_

It had never occurred to Neville that he would be spending an afternoon searching through the halls of Hogwarts for an elusive Harry Potter before Prongs had shown up. Now, of course, he found it far too common an occurrence. And wherever Harry had taken refuge, it wasn't a place that Neville could think of easily; he'd been in a similar situation for four days in a row now, and not once had he found Harry after Harry disappeared.

He didn't know quite what he'd do when he found Harry, but he knew that Harry needed someone right now, even if it was only Neville Longbottom. Neville had watched from the sidelines as Harry "Prongs" Potter had stepped into the spotlight of the Boy-Who-Lived and had eclipsed the light that had shone from Harry Potter for so long. Neville was, perhaps, the only Gryffindor that Prongs had ignored since his arrival, but he hoped that even if Prongs had played to his wishes, as he had everyone else, that he would have still seen through the facade.

And played to everyone else's wishes he had. Prongs was the perfect "Harry Potter". He had impressed every teacher he had with his skills and learning ability – except for Snape, who continued to hate him as evenly as he hated Harry. His attention to his studies had also brought him to Hermione's good side; he, too, had read Hogwarts: A History before coming to school. Prongs was also an avid Chudley Cannons fan and could go on at great length to Ron about a number of their games that he'd seen in the past, which apparently had been almost exactly the same for both timelines. In addition, Prongs seemed to have some form of Sight, and was always willing to help any Gryffindor with his or her problems. He hated Slytherins with a passion that Harry couldn't ever have matched; Neville had even heard talk of him actually replacing Harry on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a seeker since, even though the lifetime ban had been raised, Harry was still on "probation" and could only begin to play Quidditch next year if he was "well behaved" this year.

In short, all of Gryffindor House seemed to have abandoned Harry for Prongs. And as they had gravitated towards Prongs and Prongs had stepped more and more into the spotlight, Harry had slipped further and further into the shadows.

But no one seemed to have noticed this except Neville.

* * *

Harry sat on the cold ground outside Hagrid's hut and concentrated on finishing his Transfiguration essay, pulling his cloak tighter around him to block out the air that was surprisingly cold for September. If this was anything to go by, they would have snow early this year, Harry thought absently as he searched the open book in front of him for another reason why transfiguration of animals into people had been outlawed in 1530.

"You know Harry, if it gets too cold fer ya, you could go inside," Hagrid called from where he was watering something that looked like a cross between a cabbage and an eggplant but was at least three times the size and had four or five barbed vines entwining around it.

Harry called back that he was fine before returning to his essay. He had been coming out to see Hagrid almost every day for the last couple of days. Hagrid was one of the very few people who seemed to prefer him over Prongs. The first time Harry had come was on Tuesday, when Ron had taken Prongs out to practice Quidditch. Hagrid had been all too happy to have Harry help him (he'd been pruning Travignines) and had remarked that there was something he didn't like about Prongs, before hastily adding that Harry should forget that he'd said that because it was something he shouldn't have said.

Hagrid had been shocked and a bit angry that Ron and Hermione were beginning to ignore Harry in favor of Prongs, and after that Harry hadn't bothered to mention that the rest of Gryffindor House seemed to be doing the same thing. Wednesday he hadn't come down to see Hagrid since he had spent the afternoon in the library trying to look up something to help him with his potions essay that had been due this morning. Thursday he had come down but Hagrid had been teaching a class that afternoon so he'd just hung around Hagrid's hut and worked on his Charms assignment. And Friday he'd spent nearly all of his free time down with Hagrid. Harry wondered briefly if Hagrid would be accused of giving him special treatment, but he'd decided that he would make sure to make sure he earned all his grades for Care of Magical Creatures so no one could accuse him of it.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Neville looking down at him with a look that matched the timid tone of his voice, almost as if he were addressing an animal that was more apt to run away at the slightest movement.

"Hi, Neville," Harry nodded at his friend, moving his Transfiguration book off the stone next to him so Neville would have a place to sit down if he wanted.

"I- um… wondered if you would like some company and um… someone to talk to," Neville mumbled. When he'd finally found Harry, Neville had almost lost his nerve. The Harry that had entered Hogwarts laughing with his friends at the beginning of the year was not this withdrawn and hurt Harry that now sat before him with a gaunt look in his eyes. But the smile that lit his face at Neville's hesitant offer made Neville glad that he'd clung to his Gryffindor courage and approached his friend.

"So is this where you've been coming all week?" Neville asked, sitting down on the cold rock next to Harry.

"Yeah. I just had to get out of the Tower." The gaunt look was back but it did not hold the acidic sting that it had before. "Get away from _him_."

Neville nodded in understanding. "I don't blame you for wanting to put as much space between him and you as possible."

The floodgates broke. "It's just so unfair!" The Transfiguration essay was forgotten as it fell to the ground next to them. "I've been with them for six years now. And even after all that-" Harry broke off as if physically restraining his words. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -" he muttered bashfully.

"No, you're right, Harry. He's played to their every whim, and they've all forgotten that he's not the real Harry Potter because of it."

"That's just it, Neville." Harry's hands rose to cradle his face in a gesture of hopelessness. "He is Harry Potter. He's just a perfect Harry Potter."

"He's not perfect, Harry." Neville looked around to make sure that no one could hear simply on impulse. "I found out that you still have better grades than he does in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry laughed brokenly. "Even though that's what he thinks I'm most hopeless in."

* * *

Harry managed a grin as Neville left for dinner; he'd opted to just not go. Taking his now-finished Transfiguration work, he bid Hagrid a good night as well and turned to go for a walk around the lake. He now understood what Dumbledore had meant back in his first year about Neville. Though even Neville himself didn't seem to realize it, he had a great deal of courage and loyalty. He was just too afraid to use them sometimes. Harry almost smiled as he looked out over the lake, but that half-smile melted back into his normal expression as a smug voice behind him broke into his thoughts.

"If you're going to look for a bodyguard without brains you might want to find one that can actually fight, Potter, which Longbottom cannot do, by the way."

Harry let a look of annoyance flutter across his face as he turned to look up at Draco Malfoy. "Speaking of bodyguards, Malfoy, where are yours? Up at dinner?"

A smirk sat comfortably on Malfoy's lips as he replied, "Of course. I sent them there."

"Why don't you do yourself a favor and send yourself there as well." Harry turned to look back at the lake. He didn't want to deal with Malfoy right now.

"You lose your spark without them. It's pathetic, Potter."

Harry's body seemed to freeze but he refused to turn around, refused to rise to the bait.

But Draco wasn't finished. "He's taken them all away from you, Potter. He appears to be so perfect, and they don't bother to check behind his lies to find the truth. Such _wonderful_ friends you had for yourself, don't you agree? But they're not the only ones, are they? The teachers, even Dumbledore – whom you revere so much, are all singing his praises. Well, except my Head of House, of course, but he wouldn't do that, simply on principle. The rest of the students are quite taken with him, as well. Slytherins simply _hate_ him, you know. And they've all forgotten about you. Every one of them, except a half-giant, a wizard who should have been born a squib, and me."

"And why do you care so much, Malfoy? You must hate him as well."

Draco laughed at Harry's droll tone. "Oh no, I don't hate him. I've seen behind the lies he weaves so elegantly. He knows it all in theory, but he can't put it into practice, Potter. He's absolutely hopeless at Defense Against the Dark Arts; I should know, I was partnered with him yesterday. He's no threat to the Dark Lord, Potter, so I actually find his silly games quite funny."

"Doesn't tell me why you seem to care so much."

"Oh, _that_ should be quite obvious, Potter." Harry turned in time to see the smirk drop and a strange emotion take control of Malfoy's face, one that he had never seen there before. "I have an ulterior motive."

As Malfoy turned and began the walk back to the castle he called over his shoulder, "Make sure they don't replace you completely, Potter, or else I won't be able to gain anything from it."

"And what makes you think I'd care about what _you'd_ gain?" Harry called at his retreating figure.

"Oh, you'll care, Potter. Just give it time," came the smug, sure, answer.

* * *

Harry took to sitting with Neville in every class that they shared and at meals, when he attended them. His appetite, though never as large as his other classmates, just wasn't there anymore. He delved more into his school work and by the end of the month he had almost given up on the two he had originally thought of as his best friends. Thus, he was very surprised when Ron shook him awake one morning.

"Harry, mate, wake up! I need to talk to you!"

Harry was awake in an instant. "What is it, Ron?"

"We've figured out how we're going to beat Slytherin this year!"

Harry's spirits sank a bit, but he refused to be disappointed that the first thing Ron had really said to him was about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. "How's that?"

"Well, we still haven't really replaced you as a Seeker, and you _know_ how important that is!" Harry's spirits rose a bit. "But we were talking to Prongs and he mentioned that he played as a Seeker, too, so we let him try out, and he's amazing, Harry! He might even be better than you!" Harry tried to tune Ron out. It was better when he had been ignoring him. "But you know he couldn't ride one of the school brooms against Slytherin, so we were wondering about getting him one before the next match."

"When's the next match?" Harry asked half-heartedly.

"Tomorrow! Merlin, Harry, where have you been? The whole school's talking about it!"

Harry mentally remarked that he hadn't been in school, in fact he tried to stay as far away from school as he could now. "Couldn't McGonagall get him a broom, like she did for me?"

"Not enough time! But then I thought, 'Well Harry has a broom that he isn't using for matches right now', and that's it! You could give Prongs your Firebolt to ride on, then we won't have to bother McGonagall for a broom, and it would be perfect, Harry!"

Harry felt something inside him ice over. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Prongs leaning against the doorway with a smirk. That something shattered.

Carefully, Harry slid out of bed, thankful that he'd just been dozing and not actually asleep so he was fully clothed and not in his pajamas. With a systematic precision he undid the locking spells he had placed on his trunk and took out his Firebolt. His eyes flittered from the broom to the look of bliss on Ron's face and then to the smug look on Prongs' face.

Slowly, he walked over to where Prongs was standing. Prongs held out a hand for the broom.

"I think that enough of my life has already been given to you, Prongs," he hissed. "And this will not be one of those things!" He pushed Prongs out of the way and made his way to the exit of the Gryffindor Common Room, ignoring Ron's shouts as he left.

* * *

Harry headed for the Quidditch Pitch, where the Slytherins would be practicing for the match. If it was tomorrow, as Ron had said, then they would have booked the field for themselves, with Snape's help; they always did.

He was not disappointed as he spotted the streaks of green circling around the Pitch. Getting close enough so they could see and hear him, he shouted, "Malfoy!"

One of the green figures slowed slightly as the rest of them turned to see who was shouting. The figure paused for a moment and then descended to the ground as Harry reached the edge of the Pitch.

"What do you want, Potter? We are in the middle of practice here." Malfoy leaned against his broom as he spoke.

"Tomorrow, in your match against Gryffindor, my House is going to use my other self as their Seeker."

Malfoy's smug look faded slightly.

"He flies, according to them, exactly like I do. Maybe even better."

The look had faded completely. "And exactly why are you telling me this? One would think you don't want them to win, taking away their advantage like this."

"Oh, I'm going to do more. They wanted me to give him my Firebolt to play on. I'm refusing to do that." He held out the broom. "I want you to play on it instead."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Potter-"

"It's just a loan, Malfoy, and I _will_ collect it after the game. And if you do not give it back to me at that time. there is nowhere you can run where I won't find you and make you wish you'd never been born." Harry stepped closer and practically hissed. "I want you to win. But not just win, I want you to destroy them exactly as they were before I ever joined the team in my first year."

Draco's surprise melted into his comfortable smirk as he clasped the offered broom. "Alright, Potter, I'm game. I'll help them remember exactly who is the real Harry Potter around here."

Harry nodded and left the field as Draco's teammates hovered around him asking what exactly was going on. Draco didn't answer them, his eyes following Harry's retreating figure with a strange and unreadable emotion boiling beneath their surface.

* * *

Harry avoided all of Gryffindor the next day and pointedly did not go to the Quidditch match. He didn't want to see or hear his former friends cheering for Prongs. He just wanted the game to be over so that he could deal with the consequences.

And there would be consequences. He wasn't stupid. Most, if not all, of Gryffindor would be furious at him when word got around as to what he had done. Ron wouldn't keep it a secret, even if Malfoy would for some reason. Prongs definitely wouldn't keep it a secret. And when – well, if – Gryffindor lost, all the blame would shift to Harry. And he wasn't quite sure that he disliked that idea. They thought they didn't need him, or else they ignored him for Prongs. He would show them how wrong they were.

"Thought you'd be here, Potter," a voice drawled next to him, and Harry looked up from where he sat on Hagrid's front step. "I was surprised you didn't come to watch."

"How did the game go?"

"Brilliantly. 320-40, Slytherin. I'm almost loathe to give this back to you; it did so sink their spirits when they realized whose broom I was riding."

"You told them?" Harry asked, taking the offered Firebolt.

"Of course I did. You couldn't have expected me to stay silent about it."

"I didn't. I counted on it."

A crooked smile found its way through Malfoy's normal smirk. "My, my, Potter, you sound as if you're planning something. Not very Gryffindor, if I may say so."

"They've proven they don't need another Harry Potter in Gryffindor," Harry murmured.

"Very true, Potter. So where does that leave you?"

"I haven't worked things out that far yet."

"Make sure you tell me what you decide."

"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

"Oh, nothing much," Draco spoke flippantly as he turned to leave. "That ulterior motive of mine, remember?"

"What makes you think I'd care to remember?"

"Ouch, Potter, you wound me! After all we've been through…" Draco trailed off theatrically. "I would think you'd be a bit suspicious."

"Suspicion doesn't make me actually care; just makes me wary of you."

"Ouch! Watch were you use that forked tongue of yours, Potter. It stings like a Basilisk fang."

Before Harry could demand what exactly Malfoy meant by _that_, he had already left.

* * *

Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room prepared for an onslaught, even thought it was well past curfew. He was not disappointed. Ron, Hermione, and Prongs were waiting for him.

"What was that about, Harry?" Ron shouted. "Giving your broom to Malfoy like that!"

Harry's smile didn't reach his eyes as he turned slightly to look at Ron. "I was just promoting inter-House unity."

"Why do you hate me, Harry?"

Harry turned, stunned, to look at Prongs, who was doing a very good impression of hurt innocence.

"You dislike me so much that you would rather Slytherin win the Cup?"

"It's true, Harry," Hermione added reproachfully. "You've been horrid to Prongs ever since he arrived."

Harry snorted. "I've never been horrid to anyone from Gryffindor."

"You were horrid to the whole House today!" Ron exclaimed, "Practically _gave_ the game to Slytherin!"

"I did nothing of the sort, Ron," Harry explained sarcastically. "To give the game away I would have had to successfully bribe whoever was refereeing, and I don't even know who that was."

"You gave your broom to _Malfoy_!"

"You haven't been nice to me, ever since I got here. It's not my fault I got thrown into your timeline, you know," Prongs said pitifully.

Hermione and Ron were nodding, and Harry snapped. He whirled on Prongs, who had the audacity to say such to him, when it was in truth Prongs who had been horrid to Harry ever since he'd arrived.

"_What are you talking about? You were the one who's hated me since you arrived here. You blame all of the problems in this timeline on me. You hate my existence, and you've told me so yourself. Stop lying!_"

Prongs had gone whiter than any of the ghosts in Hogwarts.

"Snap out of it, Harry!" Hermione yelled.

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Snap out of what?"

"You were talking in Parseltounge," Ron's voice was barely a whisper.

"I couldn't have been, Ron; there are no snakes around."

"You were."

Harry looked again at Prongs' still frightened expression and found he didn't care. "Whatever. I don't really care. There's only been one Gryffindor who hasn't deserted me for him since he came here, and it's not one of you two."

Harry pushed past Hermione and Ron's startled expressions, and Prongs' now pensive one, and made his way to the boys' dorm. He needed sleep and he needed to figure out why he'd started talking in Parseltounge all of a sudden. What he did not need was any more drama for tonight.

* * *

Neville groaned to himself as he realized curfew was nearly upon him and he wasn't even halfway done writing what he wanted to for his Herbology essay. Looking at the fifteen feet he'd written – even when only ten feet was required – he admitted that he might have gone a little bit beyond what had been called for.

But it had just been so interesting! He'd been researching the Damascus herb and something had been bugging him. It was really an herb of no importance, despite its qualities as an aphrodisiac, but something had seemed… off to Neville. He'd remembered at dinner when he had been flipping through the pages of his newest Herbology book – Harry hadn't been at dinner, so he'd had no one to talk to anyway – and he flipped past the chapter on lotus blossoms. He remembered the strange muggle story called "The Time Machine" where the man had seen strange effects of certain blossoms on a group of women and, when he'd rushed back to the library, he'd found that those strange properties matched that of the Damascus herb! Of course, their description didn't match the Damascus herb at all, since the Damascus herb had no flowers. In fact, the description of the flower in question reminded him a lot of a lotus blossom. So he'd then had to see if he could find if someone had crossed the lotus and the Damascus herb, but he'd found nothing. It had taken most of his day, and he was still not finished writing about this newest thesis.

Still, he didn't dare get caught in the library after curfew. Knowing his luck, it would be Snape who caught him.

Neville packed up his parchment, quill, and ink quickly, and then began the task of replacing the books he'd been using back where he found them. As he was putting the Encyclopedia of Herbology: Volume Four back on its shelf, he heard movement from the other side of the bookcase. Someone else was in the library at this time of night? He shrugged to himself and went back to putting his books away. It wasn't really his business. He certainly wouldn't tip off any teachers to the fact that someone was studying after curfew.

He rounded the corner of the bookshelf and nearly dropped his armful of books in his attempt not to run into the person standing there.

"Watch where you're going, Longbottom."

Neville didn't say anything. He'd learned long ago that ignoring bullies like Malfoy was a better course of action than responding to them.

"I noticed you're not taken in by this new Harry," Malfoy commented thoughtfully, watching Neville with a gaze that made Neville nervous. "Perhaps you're smarter than I thought you were."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." Neville told him, shifting the armful of books so they wouldn't fall yet again. "Excuse me, I have to put these away."

Neville was aware of the quiet footsteps that followed him as he moved from shelf to shelf, forced to walk deeper into the library to replace his books. What was Malfoy up to?

"You don't know then. About timelines."

"What?" Neville replaced his last book on the shelf.

"I thought you'd done some extra research like I did, but it turns out you just have good instinct for once."

"I don't know-"

"Of course you don't." Malfoy shoved a book into Neville's arms. "You listened to Dumbledore like a good little Gryffindor and followed after this timeline's Harry because you felt bad for him and didn't like how Prongs was acting. You weren't even the littlest bit suspicious, didn't even think for a moment that Dumbledore hadn't explained everything about the two Harrys."

"What are you saying?"

Draco's voice lowered in volume, even though Neville was sure they were the only two in the library. "What I'm saying is that Prongs is all talk. Whatever timeline he came from, it didn't have half of the dangers ours has. Compared to Harry, Prongs is weak and pathetic. But still he's destroying Harry. Read chapter four, Longbottom, and think about it. Think about what will happen if Harry suddenly disappears and Prongs has to fight the Dark Lord."

Malfoy whirled around and vanished into the shadows of the library with only muffled footsteps to mark his passing. Slowly, Neville looked down at the book he held. It was no library book. Not with that gold seal upon its spine. This book had come from Malfoy Manor, if the Malfoy crest was anything to go by. Why in Merlin's name would Malfoy give him a book like this?

But he was curious. Something was up with Malfoy, something that Malfoy thought was very important. Something that had to do with Harry and Prongs. Malfoy's last words were haunting; Neville didn't have to think very hard to imagine the carnage of the Dark Lord against Prongs. Prongs would stand no chance. Even Neville himself was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than Prongs was.

Opening the cover, Neville moved to the window. In the moonlight, the silver words of the book's title glowed in foreboding.

_Timeline Manipulation: A Battle of Strength_

**status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas**


	3. Prongs' Bad Faith

_Chapter Three: Prongs' Bad Faith_

Harry almost ignored the rumbling in his stomach for favor of a few more minutes of sleep before Potions the next morning. But the idea of sitting through Potions with an empty stomach overrode his wish for extra sleep and he trudged down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As usual, the only open spot was next to Neville, with the rest of the Gryffindors packed as close to Prongs as they could.

Neville smiled wearily up at him as he sat down. He actually looked more tired than Harry felt.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked as he began helping himself to some breakfast. "You look exhausted."

"I am a bit tired," Neville agreed. "I stayed up all night reading."

"Must have been interesting. Herbology?"

Neville nodded, though he didn't expand upon that answer, something which was strange for him. Harry had found that if Neville found something so interesting that he'd loose sleep over it, he'd be more than willing to talk about it. Well, Harry didn't much care for Herbology anyway. He only listened because it was what a friend did for another friend.

His breakfast was meager, only a slice of toast and some pumpkin juice today, but it filled his stomach. Neville eyed the piece of toast for a minute.

"You should eat more than that, Harry. It can't be good for you to eat so little."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't been feeling hungry lately."

Neville frowned but said nothing. Harry was struck with the thought that if it had been Ron and Hermione who were worried about what he was eating, they wouldn't have let it go at that. They would have made him eat more. But he pushed that aside with a violent mental shove. He didn't need thoughts like that.

Neville gave him another tired grin as he remarked about walking to his doom and left for Potions. It would be his fourth Potions lesson with Prongs. If anything, having Prongs in the class had made it worse than it had been before. Prongs continued to partner with him, no matter what Harry did to try and avoid it. He hadn't been helpful since that first day. Now, he could have been on par with Snape for his attempts at making Harry's life miserable, except that Snape had a lot more practice and his skill was more refined. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other on who could make him feel the worst. It was, without a doubt, the worst way to start the week that Harry could have ever imagined.

He'd stopped trying to arrive right as the class started – that only got points deducted from Gryffindor and it was useless as Prongs merely waited until he came to class. Arriving earlier at least let him grab the table in the backmost corner of the room. He'd found that, if he sat there, Snape only bothered to walk all the way back to him twice, instead of the four or five times that occurred if he sat in the front of the room. In front was, inevitably, where Prongs would choose to sit if Harry came in late.

Only the Ravenclaws got to class before Harry did. The Hufflepuffs would arrive shortly after, to be followed by Prongs and Hermione, and then finally the Slytherins. Harry didn't bother looking up from the table when the thud of a textbook and cauldron sounded next to him. Prongs _was_ early, he noted, but that wasn't so important that he would actually engage the other boy before he had to.

The boy sat down next to him in silence, which was odd for Prongs. Normally Prongs didn't waste any time. If he wanted to outdo Snape, he had to get in a lot of comments after all. His didn't have nearly the bite that Snape's barbs did, so he made up in quantity. But again, Harry hadn't even looked up at him. Perhaps Prongs hadn't slept well either, and was tired. It didn't matter, he'd start up soon anyway.

Harry finally did look up when a set of footsteps marched over to the table and he heard Prongs' voice icily accuse someone of sitting in his seat.

Malfoy, too, looked lazily up at Prongs. "Really? I wasn't aware that this was yours. Brought it from your timeline, did you?"

Harry blinked as Prongs snarled at the other boy. "Harry's my partner in Potions."

Malfoy didn't seem impressed. "Well, _Harry_ promised to work with me today. So you'll just have to partner someone else. You know, keeping promises to people he's known in his own timeline is more important than those to people from a timeline he'll never know."

Harry gaped at Malfoy as Prongs' face started to turn red. "You think you're so powerful, Malfoy," Prongs snapped in fury. "But I'll have you know that you were _nothing_ in my timeline. Your parents were _killed_ in Azkaban because they were loyal to You-Know-Who. _You_ grew up in an orphanage with no one and nothing to your name!"

"Now isn't that a shame," Malfoy drawled. "No wonder this timeline is better than yours. It's just not right for a Malfoy to grow up that way."

"Your timeline is not _better_-"

"Oh yes it is." Malfoy was smug and Harry noticed Snape's figure looming towards them. "After all, it's still in existence, isn't it?"

Prongs visibly collected himself for a scathing remark but was cut off before he could utter a word.

"Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for not being prepared for class! I believe Miss Granger has saved a seat for you; go sit down in it and stop wasting my class time."

Snape loomed over them and Prongs wilted before moving off as he had been commanded. Snape turned and headed for the front of the class where he began to lecture without addressing Harry at all.

This must be what it feels like to be a Slytherin, Harry thought in amazement. No wonder they liked this class.

"What are you doing?" Harry whispered, ignoring Snape in favor of trying to find out what had just happened.

"Working on that ulterior motive which you haven't asked about yet," Malfoy's reply was just above a whisper as he continued to listen to Snape's lecture.

Harry rolled his eyes but turned his attention back to Snape. It was probably a one-time thing. Next class, he would be back to working with Prongs.

* * *

But, against all odds, it wasn't. On Friday, Malfoy was waiting for him at the back corner table as if this was a normal occurrence. Prongs was livid, Malfoy was smug, Snape ignored Harry _yet again_, and Harry was left utterly confused. Any questioning he did resulting in Malfoy explaining patiently that he was working on his ulterior motive but he wouldn't say anything further. Harry had to admit that his Potions ability seemed to improve in leaps and bounds now that he had a partner who both knew what he was doing and wasn't adverse to explaining things to Harry. But he was still wary. Some backlash had to come from this. Malfoy never did anything he wouldn't profit from.

And so far Harry hadn't seen any profit for Malfoy from helping him with Potions. Malfoy would have done much better on his own than with Harry, but this seemed to have not occurred to the other boy. Something was going to happen, Harry was sure of it.

* * *

That backlash happened on Friday. Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and read the subject title for the class on the blackboard with dread. Their professor for this year, Mrs. Bubonic, hated writing on the board during class. Any and all notes needed for each lecture was there on the board before she began to speak.

The subject header for today was "Dueling". They'd been working up to it, Harry supposed, as he took out his parchment and began to copy down the notes so he wouldn't have to do so during her lecture. The spells they had learned over the first month of school had slowly brought them to this point. They'd started out with review of disarming and shield spells the first class of the year, and had moved from light jinxes to heavier jinxes to curses. Bubonic was training them to duel. Harry wondered idly if Dumbledore had something to do with this curriculum, or if it was just Bubonic's career in professional dueling that had designed their lessons.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors entered in their normal groups, and the classroom became very loud almost instantly. Harry sat back as Mrs. Bubonic, a tiny woman with a soft voice, tried to quell the sound. For every class it took her a good five minutes to get their attention.

When she finally did, she wasted no time. She was a practical woman who believed in not wasting class time with theatrics.

"We will begin our study of Dueling today. The notes are, as always, on the board. Now, I have heard that there was a dueling club started in your second year. Because of this, I think we should start with a demonstration instead of a lecture.

The dueling platform she conjured looked like a purple and black version of Lockheart's dueling platform and Harry eyed it warily.

"Now I believe the two students who dueled are in this class, no? Potter and Malfoy."

Prongs rose immediately, yet no one seemed to find it strange. Didn't they remember that Prongs hadn't been here in Harry's second year?

"Excuse me professor, but that Potter isn't who I dueled. He wasn't even here in second year." Malfoy's drawl seemed to shock everyone, including the teacher who frowned and then blinked in confusion.

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry Prongs, but it was Harry who dueled Draco."

Harry eyed Malfoy's smug look warily as Prongs leveled a glare in Malfoy's direction, but he stood and made his way to the platform were Malfoy was waiting for him.

It was like second year all over again, and for a moment Harry forgot that it was indeed sixth year. But as they saluted each other, reality caught up with him and he mouthed, "What are you doing?"

Malfoy merely smiled. "Making waves, Potter," he murmured as they turned and began to pace back.

Making waves? Harry did not like the sound of that.

They spun to face each other at pace ten, but Bubonic didn't bother to count. The first note on the board today was that both duelists should start when they are ready.

Both boys moved in tandem, and their first curses fired. Harry dropped as the disarming curse flew over his head and Malfoy spun away from his own.

The class was watching avidly and Harry could feel their eyes on him as Malfoy and he traded curses and jinxes. The dueling platform itself caused the most difficulty, with its limited room for movement. _Protego_ was in its element on this kind of stage, but _Protego_ wasn't Harry's best spell. It was adequate, yes, but Malfoy's was much more solid, bouncing the curses off – back at Harry – instead of absorbing them as Harry's did.

Malfoy paused and Harry readied himself for something awful. Malfoy had a look of glee on his face, as he whispered a spell Harry could not hear, but remembered very well.

"_Serpentsortia."_

The snake shot from Malfoy's wand and Harry looked up at Malfoy in confusion. Didn't he know Harry would just turn it around on him?

"Do it," Malfoy mouthed, confident, from the other side of the platform

"_Attack the one who summoned you,"_ Harry told the snake. His words, hissing and spitting, were loud in the dead silence of the room.

The snake immediately turned and headed for Malfoy who lazily pointed his wand at it and muttered, "_Evanesco_".

"I believe you boys should stop," Bubonic cut in, surprisingly calm. "Excellent form and an ingenious spark of creativity, you two. Ten points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor."

Malfoy bowed mockingly to Harry and pointedly looked over at Prongs before heading down from the platform. Harry's eyes followed where he'd looked as if of their own volition, and he saw Prongs gazing at Malfoy, his face ashen but his eyes livid.

Harry slid in to his seat in contemplation. There was something about Parseltounge that scared Prongs. But what about it could be so threatening? Prongs was Harry and Harry was Prongs, so Prongs was a snake speaker as well. It couldn't be _that_ much of a shock for him to realize how similar they really were, could it?

* * *

Neville bit his lip as he looked across the common room at the girl sitting there, the only one working on schoolwork on a Friday afternoon. Clutching his own assignment just a little bit tighter, he grabbed what little courage he knew he must possess to be in Gryffindor and walked over to her.

"Where are Ron and Prongs?" he asked, sitting down next to her and opening his textbook.

"Oh, they're out practicing," Hermione replied flippantly. "Prongs' Nimbus 2001 arrived today, so they were eager to try it out."

Neville nodded, waiting until she finished a sentence before asking, "Hermione, can I talk to you about something?"

She put down her quill instantly. "Sure, Neville, what's wrong?"

"It's about Harry. Doesn't he seem a little… off… to you?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes. He has been acting strangely, ever since Prongs arrived. Harry's not the one to act in jealously, but he's been acting so hurtful to Prongs." She shook her head. "Ron's upset at him as well. And Harry won't even try to reconcile with him. I hardly even see Harry outside of classes anymore."

"That's because he thinks that you don't want him around," Neville said hesitantly.

"What?" Hermione looked genuinely shocked. "Of course we want him around! Where did he get an idea like that?"

"Because that's how you're acting." She opened her mouth to protest but Neville forced himself not to let her interrupt him. "Even I can see it. Ever since Prongs got here you've been ignoring Harry. I know you just didn't want Prongs to feel like an outcast, but you've gone too far."

She looked at him, but her gaze had turned inward, as if thinking over the past month since school had started and Prongs had been catapulted into their lives.

Neville took her silence as permission to continue. "You said yourself that Harry wouldn't be spiteful towards Prongs, but all you listen to is what Prongs tells you. Have you ever wondered if maybe Harry is the one being hurt by Prongs and not the other way around?"

"But he did give his Firebolt to Malfoy," Hermione objected, more questioning than sure.

"I asked him about that. Do you know what actually happened?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Ron and Prongs woke Harry up that morning to demand that he give it to Prongs. Think about how Harry must have felt, Hermione! You know how much Quidditch means to him and there was Ron, going on about how Prongs might be better for the team than Harry had been!"

"Ron wouldn't do that on purpose," Hermione muttered, "He probably just got carried away."

"Of course he did," Neville agreed. "He saw an opportunity to defeat Slytherin, but he never saw how he hurt Harry in his enthusiasm. Think about it Hermione; if you had been in Harry's spot, would _you_ have given your broom to Prongs?"

"No," Hermione replied after a moment of thought. "I guess I wouldn't."

"Harry hasn't been rotten to Prongs at all, Hermione," Neville pressed. "If anything, he's stayed as far away from Prongs as he can! Whatever Prongs says Harry has done, it's not true. I can vouch for him – I'm the only one who's with Harry when he's not in class – he never goes near Prongs unless he absolutely has too."

Hermione was shaken, Neville could see that, so he tried a different tactic. "Have you done any research on timelines yet?"

"Well, I tried," Hermione replied instantly. "But there aren't any books on it in the library. So all I've had to go on was what Dumbledore told us."

"Dumbledore left some things out," Neville said slowly and Hermione's head spun towards him so fast he thought her neck might snap. "I think he believed that Prongs and Harry wouldn't have a problem, because he knows Harry. But Prongs hasn't made the same choices Harry has, so he's in fact quite different, and some things about timelines make what Dumbledore didn't tell us actually very important."

"How did you research it?" Hermione asked.

"There's a book in the Restricted Section," Neville lied. Yes, Malfoy's book was in the Hogwarts Restricted Section, but Neville hadn't bothered to actually go find Hogwarts' copy for himself.

He wrote the title and author down on a scrap of parchment and handed it to Hermione. "I think you should read it and then go talk to Harry. He misses you… and Ron too," Neville added after a moment.

Hermione pocketed the piece of parchment carefully before smiling at Neville. "You're a good friend, Neville," she said, packing up her things. "Harry is lucky that you're looking out for him." She paused for a moment and then added, "We all are."

* * *

**Additional Notes:  
****(1)**_Mrs. Bubonic_ – All name jokes aside (yes, I totally gave her that last name on purpose), for everyone who's head snapped up and went "WHAT??" at this, I will remind you that I started planning/writing this fic before the sixth book came out. Ergo, Snape is still teaching Potions, and I created a teacher to teach DADA. I haven't gotten any reviews going "OMG why is Snape still teaching Potions?!", so thank you very much for that, and I just ask for that same flexibility here. I was going to try and simply fit in Slughorn as a DADA teacher… but that didn't work. Like _really_ didn't work. I hope these discrepancies from the sixth book don't spoil the fic too much for you.

**status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas**


	4. What Dumbledore Didn't Say

_Chapter Four: What Dumbledore Didn't Say_

Prongs glared at Draco Malfoy all throughout dinner. Draco felt the gaze like an itch between his shoulder blades, even though he was facing the Gryffindor table. Prongs wouldn't look away, his glare only heightening in ire when Draco caught his gaze once or twice. Potter-two was planning something, Draco realized, and – unlike Potter-one – Potter- two looked as if he was willing to wait for a moment when Draco was as defenseless as he was ever going to get to exact whatever he was planning.

He wasn't the only one who noticed it, but then again, it was Crabbe and Goyle's prerogative to understand instinctively when someone was out to hurt Draco.

"You want us to do something about him?" Goyle asked, his voice low, as Pansy Parkinson went on about her Ancient Rune's class in Draco's other ear.

"No. I'll handle it. Just let me borrow your wand for a bit."

Goyle slipped his wand into Draco's pocket without anyone being the wiser, even at the Slytherin table itself.

* * *

If Prongs was willing to wait for just the right moment when Draco was alone and off guard, Draco was more than willing to create such a moment. He left dinner early, heading for the doors of the Great Hall. Yet, at the look on Prongs' face, he paused and changed his destination. Prongs looked murderous as he rose from the Gryffindor table – probably to follow after Draco. There was no other look that could describe the rage in his eyes, and the intent in his expression.

He lead Prongs down past Hagrid's hut, almost to the lake. There would be no one there, especially this late at night, to see their confrontation. It was how he preferred it.

Prongs must have realized that Draco was leading him somewhere, but that did not deter him. Such a Gryffindor weakness, Draco thought snidely as he turned and waited for Prongs to cross the distance he'd kept as he followed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Prongs spat as soon as he neared and saw Draco waiting for him.

"Getting rid of you."

"You won't do it. I'm stronger; I will win in the end."

"Not if there are things about Harry which you can't compete with."

"If you're talking about that hissing, then it won't matter in the long run."

Draco resisted the urge to shout at Prongs' stupidity. "Really? How much did you learn about our timeline? That 'hissing', as you call it, is one of Potter's most distinctive characteristics! In our second year, he was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin because of it. And just try to make people like your precious Ron Weasley forget that his sister nearly died because the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Just try! You don't belong in this timeline, Potter-two, and it's time you realized that."

"You have no right to say that!" Prongs seethed. "You may have money in this timeline, but I know what you're really like – a weakling little boy with nothing of value."

"You'll find, Potter-two, that choices are very important. Perhaps I did make weak choices in your timeline. Perhaps I am the dividing line that made this timeline persevere over yours. I'll never know, and neither will you. But I warn you not to consider this world the same as yours. The people here, similar as we may seem, are not the people from your time. Would a weak little boy be able to do this?"

Draco pointed his wand at Prongs, called up his pure hatred for the other into his mind, and though the boy tried to retaliate, he just wasn't fast enough.

"_Crucio._"

Prongs dropped to the ground shrieking, and Draco waited. When Prongs had screamed himself hoarse, Draco ended the curse. It was a pathetic number of moments, he thought, only a handful.

"Consider it a warning. You're useless to this timeline. I have it on good authority that Potter can bear that for much longer, and yet you drop to the ground shrieking and writhing in an instant."

Pocketing Goyle's wand, Draco turned and left Prongs crouched on the ground.

* * *

It was a good hour before Prongs shakily got to his feet and returned to Gryffindor Tower. When he was questioned worriedly by his housemates, he refused to answer and headed wordlessly for bed.

* * *

Malfoy found Neville, again in the library, after most of the students had left for their dormitories.

"You read the book, I take it." Neville nodded, reaching into his bag for said book. "You don't believe it."

"I believe it. I've seen what's happening. Prongs is taking over Harry's spot. Harry's not eating as much, he's wasting away. He looked the most alive, that I've seen, today in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's because he was. For that small time, he stepped fully back into his natural place in this timeline. For some reason, Prongs can't use Parseltounge. That's special to Potter, shaped – most likely – by his second year when the Chamber was opened. It's a trait only he developed."

"How did you find that out?"

"I'm a Slytherin, I have my ways." Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't know exactly. It was just a hunch. You see, Prongs hates Slytherin so much because Slytherin, in his timeline, has won the House cup five years running. That hasn't happened in our time. Prongs had exams every year, one of my friends overheard him telling Granger. So none of Potter's little point-gaining adventures occurred in Prong's timeline. The triwizard tournament did happen, but Cedric won it in Prong's timeline. Prongs wasn't even involved. From what I've heard, the only thing between our timelines that is the same, as far as Hogwarts is concerned, is Quidditch."

"So the two Harrys are actually very different!"

"Exactly. And I'm going to make sure that everyone knows that."

"How?"

"Little things like the duel today. Make Potter use his full talents. I should know them, after all, they've been directed at me for five years. I'll keep forcing him to make little ripples in this pool, and by the time the year is over, everyone will remember that he's the Potter from this time, not that mirror image."

"I'll help," Neville decided.

"I thought you would."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Exactly what you're doing now. Make sure he takes care of himself. I can't baby him from the Slytherin dungeons."

Neville nodded. He could do that. "But… Malfoy, why do you want Harry to take his place back? Why are you so against Prongs?"

Neville watched in amazement as Malfoy's face clouded over. "My father is in Azkaban because of him."

"What? How did Prongs-"

"Not Prongs. _Him._"

Neville froze as Malfoy slowly raised his sleeve. "You were there, in the Department of Mysteries, last year, weren't you? You understand what I'm getting at." The Dark Mark glared out at him, making the skin gleam white in comparison.

"I was so proud to follow in my father's footsteps, and now _He _is allowing father to rot in prison. I was so angry at Potter when it happened. I could have killed him right then and there and held my head proudly when I joined my father in his cell. But I didn't. I waited. For a whole summer, I burned in anger at Potter and waited for father to escape from Azkaban. He could have gotten father out of it, I know He could. But He didn't."

Neville didn't have to look very closely at Malfoy to see the pain shimmering in his eyes. Malfoy had truly believed in the Dark Lord, and his belief had been shattered.

"Mother realized it before I did," Malfoy spoke like a broken being, but there was a new resolve shaping his words. "He doesn't care what happens to His followers. I told you to imagine what would happen if Potter-two went up against the Dark Lord. He'd loose. There wouldn't even _be_ a duel. If our Potter is to be believed, he's survived against the Dark Lord twice. He stands a chance against the Dark Lord. And, through him, I can regain my family's honor, which my father lost."

Neville was probably the only Gryffindor who could understand Malfoy's words. Pureblood honor meant more than life to families like the Malfoys. His grandmother was a little bit that way, as well. It was why she'd been so happy he was a wizard – a squib would have been a mark against the Longbottom family. They weren't as bad as the _Malfoys – _not even close_ –_ but it was enough so he could understand Malfoy's resolve. This was something Malfoy would not bother to lie about. His family was shamed, and it fell to Malfoy's shoulders to regain that lost prestige.

* * *

Hermione settled back against the headboard of her bed with a whispered privacy charm aimed at her closed curtains. The book, an old tome with dog-eared and yellowed pages, was far from pristine, but the silver lettering on the cover was still as bright as if it had just been shined.

_Timeline Manipulation: A Battle of Strength_ by Horus B. Tock II.

Hermione opened the book to the first page and began to read. _Chapter One: The Time Travel Lie._

She read in silence with the muffled sounds of her housemates slowly coming to bed in groups, talking, whispering, and giggling as they gossiped. She read about the "discovery" of timelines by Merlin in the first and only – until now, she added mentally – time that any two timelines had touched each other naturally. Merlin had written a treatise on timelines – which was never published, but was found hundreds of years later – and instead called his ability "time travel".

She read the second chapter, _Chapter Two: Merlin's Theory of Timelines,_ which described how Merlin believed timelines had been created and how they would act if ever they were to collide. Merlin's theory was – almost word for word – what Dumbledore had explained during the welcome feast before they had first met Prongs.

All of the girls in her dorm had gone to sleep by the time she reached the third chapter. _Chapter Three: When Timelines Collide_. In the deep stillness of the sleeping room, she turned the page and began to read.

_Despite Merlin's express warnings in both the introduction and conclusion of his treatise on timelines, it became highly popular to force timelines to collide through the use of a Time Turner during the reign of the Emperor Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus, commonly referred to as Emperor Caligula. In fact, the Emperor himself is rumored to have met and destroyed so many of his other selves during this period of experimentation, that he caused his own insanity – no longer sure which of his own abilities were his own or just a product of his timeline._

_This, naturally, discouraged any and all research in colliding timelines, and thus such research was outlawed upon the Emperor Caligula's death. In addition, the Standard Rules for the Use of Time Turners were written in order to prevent such other illnesses – mainly with the creation of the first rule, that one should not allow oneself to be seen by others once the Time Turner is in effect._

_Before timeline collision research was halted, however, there were many documents written by Roman wizards about timelines. Only three of these survived the eventual invasion of Rome – and the corresponding destruction of the wizarding library. However, from these three documents alone – one letter and two treatises, we find a very descriptive picture of what can happen when timelines collide._

_Marcus Antonius Vigulus, the author of the earliest treatise, describes what it was like to meet his other self. He refers to this other Vigulus as "me yet not me" instead of calling him by name. Much of the treatise is spent describing the differences and similarities between the two of them, and the name Vigulus gives his other self becomes quite apt. Vigulus and his other self were, he writes, "equally strong", and yet they were strong in different qualities. In everything that Vigulus considered himself "weak", his other self was "strong", and in everything that Vigulus considered himself "strong" his other self was "weak"._

_Once they had made that distinction, Vigulus writes, they failed to be plagued by strange ailments which coincided with the other Vigulus' arrival. Vigulus concludes that they then went about their own lives, each man in his own "niche", with his own wife, and family._

_The "ailments" that they suffered from, Vigulus does not describe in detail, but the second document, a letter from one of Vigulus' mistresses, does._

_The mistress, only referred to as "Rosa" and not by a true name, writes that Vigulus acted strangely upon the arrival of his "shadow". The shadow or, sometimes, "shadow twin" that she refers to is Vigulus' "me yet not me", whom Rosa held with utmost disgust. She writes that where Vigulus was quiet, the shadow was loud, where Vigulus respectful, the shadow disrespectful. She writes that she urged Vigulus to destroy his shadow twin many times, and yet he was too fascinated by the shadow to do so. In his fascination, she writes, he did not notice that where his health waned, his shadow appeared to grow in vitality. Vigulus stopped eating for days on end, and his expressions took on a subdued nature, while his twin only seemed more healthy and energetic. Then, when she would force Vigulus to eat and visit with his friends, the obverse would occur. Vigulus would regain his color and gay countenance, and his twin would wane._

_This strange 'ailment', almost like a scale in nature, appears again in the last document, a treatise written a few years after Vigulus'. The writer of this treatise, Gaius Severus Cornelius, expresses a different view of his other self. He calls his other self a "false Gaius" and was outraged that Merlin's third point had come true. Remember, dear reader, that Merlin's third point stated that were both versions of the same person equally powerful they would both continue to exist in the timeline that was stronger. Gaius Severus Cornelius felt that the false Gaius was much weaker than he, and he scorns the talents of his other self. These talents were those of the arts – music and poetry to be exact – and were seen as pathetic by Gaius, a retired soldier turned scholar. He writes how his other self even "wasted away", too limp to move at his end, "moping about as if his children had just been slaughtered". Gaius himself suffered none of these ill-effects, and does not seemed to have suffered as Vigulus did._

_This can lead to only one conclusion about those left behind when timelines collide. A balance between the two versions of the one person – shaped into truly different beings by their own choices and the choices of those in their timelines – or else they will vie for existence until one of them is subdued by the other._

The book tumbled from Hermione's hands and banged against her shaking knees. It was all there, everything that was happening to Harry and Prongs now was nothing new, it had happened over and over again.

And Dumbledore must have read of what the two Viguli did and assumed that Harry would do the same. He could not fathom that the two Harrys would tumble into the same conflict that the two Cornelii did. Of course he didn't, if he had he would have put a stop to their conflict long ago! He had probably told the two Harrys exactly what he had told the rest of the school, confident that they would spot their differences and allow each other a bit of space to live in – their own niches. He didn't see that they were hurting each other by their actions… no one did. She certainly hadn't seen it, and _she_ had used a Time Turner for a whole year! If someone should have seen what was truly happening, it should have been her!

But only Neville had seen it, because only Neville had been smart enough to think that perhaps there might be more to learn about timelines, perhaps a darker or more dangerous nature that they were overlooking.

Hermione frowned and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. Something had to be done about this. Harry could not be allowed to weaken or die – or be hurt any longer! But she liked Prongs, too, and he didn't deserve to weaken or die either. They both deserved to live out their own lives as "Harry Potter"; they both deserved their own niche.

She couldn't tell Ron about this, not just yet. He was still too angry at Harry to listen. She would have to try and get Ron to at least reconcile with Harry before she told him about the timelines. Prongs, too, she felt wasn't read to hear that he was killing Harry.

But Harry, she felt, was probably more than ready to know what was going on. She would find him and talk to him.

First she would apologize, she decided as she slipped the note – signed by Professor McGonagall – which had allowed her to borrow the book, in-between the pages as a bookmark. She would apologize and then she would explain what she had found out.

She only hoped Harry would forgive her.

**Additional Notes:  
****1.** _Emperor Caligula_ - I do not, in any way, wish to insult any of my readers by stating this, but I figured I would cover myself and say that my version of how Emperor Caligula became ill is completely made up to suit my purpose. He actually had a documented mental disease and, of the many, many very strange things he did, proclaim to smash timelines into each other and kill other versions of himself is not one of them. Again, I'm just saying this so as to avoid any confusion.

**status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas**


	5. Trouble

_Chapter Five: Trouble_

"Hey, Draco," Goyle asked contemplatively as he looked between the Cockroach Clusters and the Ladybug Lollies on display.

Draco wondered if the contemplation in his voice came from really wondering about what he was going to ask, or the decision of which candy to get. "What?"

"Do you really think it was a good idea to tell Longbottom all that stuff?" he asked, decision made, reaching for the Cockroach Clusters.

"Of course. It's the kind of thing he'd _want_ to hear." Draco shrugged. "I didn't tell him _everything_."

"Yeah, but what about… _you know_… if it got back to Slytherin..."

Draco's lips curled into a wry smile. "Do you think anyone in Slytherin would believe a word Longbottom says?"

Goyle frowned in thought before shrugging. "Guess not."

"Hey, Draco, Goyle! Come see this!"

The two looked over at where Crabbe was pointing out the store front window. Outside, Prongs Potter and Cho Chang were walking slowly, arm and arm, from shop front to shop front, chatting animatedly.

"Well," Draco muttered as they continued up the street, "Potter-two seems to have settled in _very_ well."

* * *

Hogsmeade wasn't really as much fun without other people to go with, Harry finally admitted to himself after walking aimlessly from store to store for an hour. The wind was crisp, almost downright cold, and he was sure there were better things he could be doing than walking around by himself.

He stalled around the Three Broomsticks, though, debating whether it was worth it to go drink a butterbeer by himself, when movement in the window caught his eye. Two of his classmates, obviously on a date from the looks of it. He turned to pass by—he'd skip the Butterbeer—when just who those classmates were hit him, and he stumbled back around to stare.

Cho Chang and Harry 'Prongs' Potter were sitting in the booth at the window, looking rather entangled with one another. In fact, it seemed as if they couldn't keep their hands—or lips—off each other. And Prongs certainly seemed to be enjoying their kisses a lot more than Harry had enjoyed the one kiss he'd ever shared with Cho.

Harry felt numb. He probably looked ridiculous, standing in the street, watching the two of them snogging, but he couldn't move, couldn't look away.

"Well, Potter, I never thought you'd have any voyeuristic tendencies. Or is it really narcissism in your case?"

Of all the times… No, actually he should have suspected it. Malfoy _always_ showed up when Harry least wanted him to. But it was enough to snap Harry out of his numb state.

"Shove it, Malfoy," he snarled, brushing past the other boy without waiting for a response.

Malfoy called after him anyway, "Aw, don't be like that, Potter!" He sounded _too_ pleased with himself.

* * *

Resolving to talk to Harry was one thing, Hermione quickly realized, but _finding_ Harry was quite another. She'd started her search in Hogsmeade but then returned to the castle. It was like he'd just disappeared… or found a _very_ good hiding spot.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go, she couldn't help thinking, wondering where exactly Harry could have gotten to. Finding Harry wasn't supposed to have taken hours, but minutes. It was supposed to be simple: find Harry, apologize for assuming that he was just giving Prongs some space to get adjusted and not making sure to spend equal time with him, hopefully have Harry apologize back for acting so rashly—so that then they could start on the process of reconciling Harry and Ron, and then explain what she'd learned about timelines.

She was just short of desperation, when she decided to head for Hagrid's to ask if he knew where Harry might be—as no one else she asked seemed to know.

Of course, Harry was at Hagrid's. When she caught sight of Hagrid's hut and the boy lounging on the front step, she could have laughed out loud. Really, it should have occurred to her to look for Harry at Hagrid's sooner!

But as she neared Hagrid's hut and Harry, she slowed, the smile falling off her face. Harry wasn't alone.

Draco Malfoy had found Harry before she had.

"I can't believe you came here to _sulk_!"

Malfoy's voice was amused, though derisive, as if implying that he had suspected _better_ of Harry. Which was odd. And what he'd said had been odd, as well.

The whole thing was just… odd.

Hermione couldn't hear Harry reply, though he did turn his head to glare at Malfoy. Harry's eyes quickly caught sight of her over Malfoy's shoulder, though, and all expression seemed to freeze on his face, the anger slowly fading to an expression Hermione could only classify as confusion.

She didn't like seeing that look on Harry's face directed at her, as if wondering why she'd come to see him, as if they weren't friends and hadn't been for almost six years.

Malfoy noticed the change in Harry and turned to see where he was looking. His expression, too, changed when he saw her, twisting into something ugly, something that also questioned her presence, told her she was unwanted, and maybe called her a mudblood a couple of times for extra malice.

But there was something else in that gaze that Hermione recognized as she turned and walked back towards Gryffindor tower. It was unease, a slight fear that something was happening that hadn't been planned for.

It explained everything, and Hermione knew she would need to do more than to simply go and talk to Harry in order to fix what was going on... especially if Malfoy would be around.

And something _was_ going on, Hermione was sure of it. Neville was right, they had been watching out for Prongs more than Harry, figuring that Prongs would get settled and then everything would work itself out. But that hadn't happened, and now Hermione knew why.

* * *

"Bloody hell, you didn't have to do that."

Malfoy actually had the audacity to looked affronted. "I didn't do anything, Potter."

"Don't get self-righteous." Harry snapped. "You didn't have to scare her off like that! Just leave me alone, Malfoy." Harry went back to staring at the cracked and chipped wall that composed Hagrid's hut, hoping that if he ignored Malfoy, he'd go away.

"Not if you're going to sit out here until you freeze," Malfoy snapped. "You're pathetic, Potter!"

The smile Harry turned on Malfoy was ugly. "I'm not planning on freezing. You familiar with warming charms, Malfoy? I can sit out here quite comfortably for as long as I want."

Malfoy sneered at him. "If you say so, Potter."

It probably shouldn't have felt as good as it did to get a rise out of Malfoy. Especially, Harry thought, shifting uncomfortably on the cold step as the Slytherin headed back for Hogwarts, since he really wasn't any good at warming charms at all.

* * *

Ron was _much_ easier for Hermione to find; he was in the Gryffindor common room.

"Ron, I need to talk to you."

Ron shrugged, dropping his quill on his half-completed essay and leaning back on the couch. "Sure. I didn't really want to work on Transfiguration anyway."

"Obviously," Hermione muttered, eyeing the remains of a just-finished game of Exploding Snap a little ways away from Ron's homework on the table. "It's about Harry," she said, sitting down next to him.

"Which one?"

"_Harry,_ Harry. From this timeline."

"Oh." From the look on Ron's face, _that_ Harry really wasn't one he wanted to talk about.

"Just hear me out, Ron, please. Something's wrong with him."

"_I'll_ say something's wrong with him!"

"_Ron-_"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine, tell me what you've found out."

And so Hermione told him. She started with Neville coming to talk to her—leaving out what Neville had said about Ron's actions—and continued on to finding the book he'd mentioned. Then she started explaining what she'd learned about timelines, and what happened when two people survived in the same timeline.

"So you're saying Harry's not acting like Harry because Prongs is here?" Ron sounded and looked skeptical.

"No. Harry's actions aren't…" Hermione searched for the right word, "-directly a result of Prongs being here. It's not like Prongs' existence automatically made Harry give his broom to Malfoy."

"Oh, good, because this timeline thing is no excuse-"

"But it's not Harry's fault!"

"What?!"

"I think Harry was manipulated into doing that. Hear me out-" Hermione held up a hand to stop Ron's rant before it began. "There's a very good reason."

"It had better be."

"I went to find Harry today because I don't think he knows any more than we did about timelines, and I wanted to apologize for letting this get out of hand."

"It's not _your_ fault, Hermione. _Harry's _the one who-"

"Ron, that's not the point, listen. When I finally found him, _Malfoy_ had already found him first."

"What?"

"And Malfoy wasn't very happy to see me. I think Malfoy has everything to do with how Harry's been acting lately. I think he's using the situation with Prongs for his own ends."

"But why would Harry even listen to Malfoy. I mean…" Ron waved his arms around as if to encompass the whole situation. "It's _Malfoy!_"

"Of course Harry wouldn't listen to him right away, but Malfoy's had almost two months now to work on it! _Think _Ron! Think about when Prongs first got here, when he was just settling in and Harry wasn't around as much."

"I just figured he was probably giving Prongs some space to get his bearings."

Hermione nodded. "Probably. But while we were all helping Prongs, Malfoy starting hanging around Harry. Think about what Malfoy could have _said_!"

The realization was staring to dawn on Ron's face. "All sorts of things. And no one realized it because no one was with Harry… no wonder he's been acting so strangely!" Ron had finally caught on. "Wait! What about Neville? He's been around Harry a lot lately, too, right? Do you think he would know what Malfoy's been doing? Do you think Harry would have told him, or that he might have seen something?"

"It's possible. If anyone would know, he'd be the one." Hermione agreed.

"We have to go talk to him-"

"No!" Hermione had to physically hold Ron down in his chair. "Think about how that would look if Harry found out about it!"

"What?"

"It might look like we're going behind his back to talk about him with Neville! Think about what Malfoy would say about that!"

"...You're right."

"We have to talk to Harry first and try to fix things. Then we talk to Neville and try to figure this out."

* * *

Neville wasn't sitting at his usual spot in the Great Hall when Harry made his way down to breakfast that Monday, still half-asleep and wishing that sleeping through Potions class was an option. It took him a moment to find him, and when he did he could only blink and stare.

Because Neville, Hermione, and Ron were _all_ waving at him to come join him.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. Neville sat with an empty space on either side of him, as if to really give Harry the option of sitting with his old friends or not. But on the other side of Neville was Hermione, and across from them sat Ron and Prongs. And Prongs…

Prongs looked completely pole-axed! Harry wished for Colin and his camera to immortalize the expression, it was just _that_ good.

Harry couldn't help the smile that spread over his face as he quickly sat down in-between Neville and Hermione.

* * *

That breakfast was, purely in Harry's opinion, one of the best meals he'd ever had. Conversation was a little awkward at first, they way they always were when friends were trying to make up for time spent apart, but they quickly settled back into how they'd always been. Ron, he noticed, pointedly stayed away from mentioning Quidditch, and Harry supposed he would have to apologize for not letting Prongs ride his broom later. Prongs didn't say all that much, but what he said was polite—some of it was even funny.

It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for Harry, and it made having to leave for Potions class even less appealing, especially with Ron's comments about how glad he was not to have to take a Potions class ever again.

When Hermione demanded that they leave in order not to be late, Prongs didn't stand up when Harry and Hermione did.

"I'll catch up to you in class," Prongs waved them away.

Hermione leaned towards Harry to mock-whisper, "He probably wants to say 'hi' to his girlfriend before he goes to class," loud enough so that most everyone around them could hear it. Prongs' face took on a put-upon expression; he'd obviously been teased about this before.

As Harry and Hermione headed out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons, Prongs made no move towards the Ravenclaw table, instead leaning over towards Ron to hiss. "What was this all about, Ron?"

"We think we've figured out why Harry's acting the way he has."

"You mean supporting Slytherin like the backstabber he is?"

"Trust me, Prongs, Harry's no more a backstabber or a Slytherin supporter than you are. He's not been acting like himself, and now we—well, Hermione figured it out first—know why!"

Prongs still looked skeptical. "All right. So what's his excuse."

"Hermione saw _Malfoy_ talking to him."

"What?! That's _it?_ _Malfoy?! _That's no excuse!"

Ron glared over at the Slytherin table, at the spot where Malfoy had been sitting only minutes before, leaving an empty spot in-between Crabbe and Goyle. "Given how oddly Harry's been acting and the fact that it's _Malfoy_, my first guess would be Imperius. But Harry isn't affected by that, so that option's out."

"What!?" Prongs looked decidedly _ill_ at what Ron had just said.

"It's true, mate." Ron said gravely. "I don't know what Malfoy was like in your timeline, but in this one, he's trouble."

_to be continued..._

****

**status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas**


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